Strawberries and Wine
by Apalapucian
Summary: James doesn't want to be (just) a friend. Lily misunderstands.


**AN:** For the anon who wanted a Wanker McCheekbones fic. The prompt was '_Lily asks James out but he declines because he thought Lily wanted to go only as friends; she gets hurt and goes with Terrence instead_'. Something along those lines. Thanks, anon! Never thought anyone liked my OC's besides myself!

* * *

Terrence has gone off to fetch them drinks, and James appears out of nowhere.

Lily doesn't make any sort of acknowledgment. She has decided, prior to coming here, that she's cross with him, and that it's going to be a fortnight _at least_ until she's able to talk to him and not feel like the biggest idiot on the planet, so she tries not to linger on his reluctant advance, that little sigh before he says her name, how the bloody blighter looks absolutely dashing in his dress robes.

She's determined to pay him no heed, and she almost, _almost_ succeeds, but it's impossible to unsee the patch of skin peeking beneath his wrist watch, pink even in the dim lighting. James has a habit of picking under the band and scratching his wrist distractedly when something's on his mind. His cheeks are flushed too, but he could easily just have had some of the punch.

"Can we talk?"

"I believe it's a fundamental human ability, yeah."

He bites his lower lip and takes a half-step forward. "Evans…"

"Potter."

He swallows, looks around. The dance floor is crowded—Slughorn is delighted with this—and the students milling about them are either dancing or snogging or chatting animatedly over their champagne glasses. Terrence is over at the buffet table on the far end of the room, and Lily's eyes don't leave him when she speaks.

"I didn't know you were coming."

"I wasn't going to," says James. "The lads and I, we—it was a last minute decision, really."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

Lily frowns. "Why are you here, James?"

"_Because_," he says, like she's supposed to understand that as a perfectly rational answer by itself.

She crosses her arms. "Excellent reasoning."

"Because you asked me to this," he says hurriedly, almost desperately. "And… and I said no." He sounds lost, and his gaze just as aimlessly roams the floor.

"Thanks for reminding me. It's one of my fondest memories."

He flinches. "Lily, I didn't _mean_ to say no…"

"Oh?"

A new song comes on. More upbeat. Noisier. Someone laughs raucously from their right, and some people start dancing wildly or else singing on top of their voices. James and Lily are both unceremoniously shoved to the side; his fingers twitching when her hand brushes his. Lily stills, but doesn't comment. She squints, sight weaving through the moving crowd, avoiding James's cautious stare. She can't see Terrence anymore.

"Look, can we talk elsewhere?" James speaks over the din.

She spares him a glance, secretly fearful, half-heartedly cold, and she almost says no.

* * *

"Hey, I wasn't sure if you wanted the cherry or the pineapple, so I… is everything okay?"

"Yes. Yeah…" She hesitates. "Listen, Terrence, there's just something I need to fix for a bit—"

But Terrence has already caught sight of James a little away, leaning against a makeshift column, head hung. She can lie, but there really is no point.

Terrence's smile is brief and humouring. "It's okay."

"I'm really sorry." She means it, too. "It'll be just a minute, I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I doubt that," says Terrence, and his accompanying chuckle is nervous and pained. There is no spite there though, no genuine sign of it at all, and Lily doesn't know whether or not she prefers it that way. "It's alright, Lily. I knew it wasn't… you know. I knew you only said yes because—"

"_Terrence,_" Lily cuts off at once, placing a placating hand on his arm. "You're brilliant. You are, please believe me. I just—I need to…"

"It's okay, Lily, you can go," he says again, like saying it more than once would patch him up.

Lily indulges herself that notion as she smiles at him, apologetic, and then leaves.

* * *

Outside, the corridors are drafty, and the echoing hum of the proceedings beats a cacophonous harmony with their footsteps.

"You're horrible," says Lily, way before James reckons they're far enough to halt, and he, walking a little ahead, whirls around to face her.

"What?"

"You're horrible," she repeats firmly, defiant, "but—but I'm horrible, too."

"Why are we horrible?"

"Because Terrence is an incredibly decent bloke, he's really nice, and now I'm here with you and he's alone in there. He must hate me now."

"You can go back after if you want," James says quietly; the annoyance isn't lost on his dented eyebrows and his clenched jaw.

Well, it's not like Lily's feeling particularly peachy herself. "Great. So what?"

"I just want to understand something."

"Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?"

"I honestly tried."

"Right then."

A pause; Lily waits, watches him grow from irate to thoughtful to worried to determined. He takes a deep breath, and then, "Why are you here with him?"

"Why not?"

"Fair enough. Why are you here with me now then?"

She waits for another question, a follow-up, something that would make much more sense. Nothing comes and she's incredulous. "You asked if we could talk!"

"You could have said no."

She huffs, angry now, and seriously considers walking away. "Do you _want_ me to have said no? Am I supposed to—d'you want me to just always say no to you from now on then, is that what you're asking?"

"No! _No_, I didn't—"

"I don't understand you," says Lily heatedly. "Are you doing this on purpose, being difficult? I asked you, James—actually, outrightly, properly asked you if you wanted to be here with me, and you—"

"I said no, I know, but—"

"Yes, that's what you did! So, okay, good! Great for you! Now _what are we doing here?_"

"I said no only because Peter told me _you said_ you were going to ask a friend to Slughorn's party, and—"

"And I did! I did ask a friend, and said friend turned me down!"

"Because maybe I don't want to be _a friend!_"

Lily's hands pause midair in her ardent gestures, ultimately dropping back to her sides, limp and frozen as her brain has gone. "What?"

Through steadfast, unshifting eyes: "I don't want. To be. _A friend_."

She stares back at him, seeks the intense, hard hazel beneath the glass. And then she shakes her head and starts turning away, entirely missing the point. "Fine then."

His hand is around her arm before she can take one step—

"No, wait—"

"I really don't know why I'm here, James, but if you're… if somehow the last few months have been a displeasure for you, then—you don't have to beat around the bush like this. We can just stop talking. It's good. I can handle it."

He stares at her in disbelief, his other hand coming up to make her fully face him. "You're _unbelievable_."

She raises an eyebrow up at him and shrugs herself off of his grip. "And you're an obnoxious, self-assuming, _arrogant_ little—"

"I'm going to kiss you."

Her jaw drops. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't—"

"Say no and I won't."

"_What?_"

He closes what little breadth there is left between them, hands leaving her arms to gently cup her face and tilt her head up. "_Evans,_" he says, and she must look like a right old blockhead with her mouth slightly hanging open like that, but she can't move, can't think of anything right to say, and she's only starting to realize—not a friend, not _a friend_, oh Merlin Lily you _dolt_—

"Say no. And I won't."

There isn't much thought warranted, really.

"You're horrible," she only tells him again, whispers against his fogged up glasses, against the anxious crook of his mouth—before she's standing on her tiptoes to find out whether his lips feel as soft as they always looked, before knowing at last that she's right, they _do_, and they taste like strawberries and wine and everything she ever imagined James Potter would be; hands, hair, lips and all—

Finally, _finally_ she knows what it's like, what he's like, there's more than silly hope and unspoken words and elaborate daydreams playing on her tongue now, so much more—

He's kissing her back with pent-up years and unrestrained hands and the most eager of hearts, and it makes her happy, the bloody _happiest_, unearthing his smile through his restless lips, feeling weak in the knees as he pushes her until she hits the wall, the contrast of the cold jagged surface and his warm moving body just about to drive her completely _insane_—

Lily catches her breath, snatches reality by the collar before it slips away. Their foreheads touching, James's hands firm around her waist, she measures the passing time with his erratic heartbeats beneath her palm and deems it endless.

"Idiot," he chuckles, pecks her on the lips once more, twice more, closing his eyes and remembering how to breathe. "The _biggest_."

"I still think you're an obnoxious, despicable, annoying sodding scoundrel."

"I take it you don't want to be my friend too then?"

Her smile is earsplitting; eyes a blazing forest fire. "I don't."

He shrugs, leans in until Lily can almost taste that sweet smug grin on her lips again. "Great—at least now it's cleared up."


End file.
